


possession & control.

by sparecoochiepls



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Aftercare, Choking, Daddy Kink, Exhibitionism, F/M, Humiliation, Light Dom/sub, Spanking, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-23 12:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30055521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparecoochiepls/pseuds/sparecoochiepls
Summary: you and santi have a relationship that's not traditional--to say the least.--originally posted to tumblr under soyelfuegoquearde--
Relationships: Santiago "Pope" Garcia/Reader
Kudos: 7





	1. part 1

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: dom/sub vibes, toxic relationship sort of?, degradation, choking, exhibitionism/voyeur, (more than just) brief daddy kink, spanking, cum, aftercare tho! i abuse my commas.

“Oh I get it. You’re taking me to this party so you can ignore me, like you would in our living room, but in a more _stimulating_ location. Is that right?” you spit at Santi as you bitterly apply your lipstick.

“No sweetie, that is not right. And if you keep up that tone with me, there’s going to be consequences before we leave,” he replies and you can feel his eyes like lasers, boring holes in the back of your head.

“I need to go to this work party. And I want you to come with me because you are my girlfriend,” you can hear the frustration growing in his voice as you continue to ignore his stare and apply your makeup in a ferociously vindictive fashion. “Look at me while I’m talking to you, and I’m not going to ask twice.”

You smack your eyebrow pencil to the counter, letting out a deep sigh and slowly turn to face your angered boyfriend.

“I want you to come to this party because I care about your presence there. I know that they are not your favorite things. I know you don’t like talking with these sort of clients, but I want you there so you’re coming.”

 _Of course, he wants you there so now your presence is mandatory._ You’re not going to win this fight. But you can certainly make him regret bringing you. You let your angered stare fade and you repress the fire burning in the back of your mind. That will be saved for later. _But how will you make him regret?_ You let a smile grow from deep inside (because you do truly love him, even if fighting with him brings you just as much energy as making him happy does).

“Of course sweetheart, whatever you want,” you reply with potentially a little too much fake docility and eagerness.

Santi reaches to brush your hair away from your face and then kisses you with such tenderness that you might be able to forget the vague threat of _consequences_ for your tone two minutes ago. “I’m sure tonight can’t be that bad, you remember Frankie right?” you nod your head in the affirmative. “He’s going to be at this event, and I’m sure he’d love to avoid schmoozing these clients as much as you.”

Wow. He just did it. Poor Santi, he just laid his own trap. Sure, he’s an asshole but does he really deserve the torture you’re about to put him through? You’re going to flirt with his best friend in front of him, just to make him feel like shit.

Santi knew everything about you, everything that mattered at least. He knew how to make you cum like no man had before. He could place you on the precipice of pain and pleasure like a fucking god. And he knew it. He knew you were his, he told you it every time you fucked. He owned you. But that didn’t stop you from wanting to hurt him, just a little.

He possessed you but you controlled him. At any moment, with the flip of a switch in your mind, you could throw him into whatever emotional state you wanted. You could make him worship you. You could make him so angry that he would choke you within an inch of your life. But it’s because you wanted it. You chose it. And you were never going to willingly surrender your power over this man.

* * *

You were right. It felt like mere moments into the event, Santi’s hand shifted from its natural resting place in the small of your back to reach and shake someone’s hand. Then it moved to pat a shoulder. Then to sit against another woman’s waist as he whispered in her ear. You knew it. This was his routine. This was what made him such a good contractor, he could sell himself so easily. His touch meant nothing to him but everything to those whom it graced.

So you sit, at this party’s open bar, sipping a dirty martini and staring daggers at your boyfriend across the room as he entertains a group of leeches, for all you care.

But a familiar voice brings a smile to your face, “Frankie!!” you call and embrace him in a hug that probably lasts for too long on account of the martini’s gin. And when you do let go, you don’t let your arms drop completely, instead you nonchalantly rest your hands at where his muscular forearms hit his elbow. It’s a flirty stance. But that’s been your plan all along, _hasn’t it?_ Blame the gin some more.

You chat with Frankie, allowing the two of you to catch up but always keeping some sort of physical contact with his arms, his chest, his hips, and even once reaching up to brush away a cracker crumb that had been caught in his sorry excuse facial hair (at least compared to your Santi).

You even get Frankie to take a shot of tequila with you, which certainly makes him more receptive to your lingering touches. For an extended moment, he lets his hand rest against your waist, and you start to feel sort of guilty.

“I’ve got to use the restroom,” you spill with a slight giggle, “but when I get back, I’m requesting you dance with me.” As you part, you let your hand graze down his arms, your fingers leaving residual energy between your bodies.

The moment you’re gone, Frankie sobers slightly. “Fuck,” he realizes, contemplating the amount of flirting that he has engaged in over the last 30 minutes. 

Frankie moves across the party to own up to Santi. “Santi man,” he starts, expecting to be able to explain himself.

“You’ve been flirting with my girlfriend, brother,” Santi says, turning to face Frankie with an apparent scowl on his face.

“Yeah, I’m really fucking sorry dude. I’m a little toasted and I lost my mind with her hands on me. But I came to explain and apologize. I really mean it.”

Santi gives his friend a deep stare and then breaks, “I know you are, but can you help me teach her a lesson, so she won’t pull shit like this again?”

“Yeah, sure, anything hermano.” So Santi and Frankie made their own plan, unbeknownst to you.

You meet Frankie on the dance floor and quickly wrap your arms around his neck, leaning in close enough to notice how he smelled like a campfire after it had rained, woodsy and dark. You could almost get used to how your hands felt, absorbing the heat that radiated out of the back of his neck.

You _could_ almost get used to it, but suddenly two familiar hands were on your body-- one on your hip, the other on your neck.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Santi hisses into your ear. His body was tense with anger but you could also feel his hard cock pressing up against the back of your leg. You start to answer, to try and explain yourself and maybe work your way out of this situation, but all you can get out is an airy whimper as Santi’s hand tightly grips your throat. With this full control over your body, he briskly walks you into an empty room off of the main event space.

Now in the privacy of this room, Santi lets his anger loose. “You’re such a dirty slut,” he says pushing you up against the wall and tightly gripping your chin. This gives you a chance to gasp in a full breath with his hand removed from your throat.

 _You got what you wanted, you suppose, he’s really paying attention to you now._ You plead with him, “I’m so sorry baby, I just wanted you to focus on me for one night. I’m so sorry that I wrapped your friend Frankie into it.” It’s not until this moment that you have the courage to break eye contact with Santi and you notice that Frankie is in the room. He flashes you a look of ‘I’m sorry’- sort of. 

“So my little slut was so desperate for attention that she had to go put her hands all over my best friend?” Santi goads, shoving his knee in between your legs. “You knew that I was going to find out, and you knew that I was going to punish you for it. Didn’t you?” You nod in the affirmative. “So you want this, right? You want to be punished for being a slut, while all those people are in the other room?”

God, your body is on fire listening to these words spill from Santi’s lips, fueled by fury and his own arousal at the nature of the situation. His throbbing dick was probably already leaking precum trapped inside his pants. If he kept you pinned in this position any longer, you might leave a wet spot where your pussy was grazing his thigh anytime either of you shifted your bodies.

“Because you were desperately trying to lure him in with your flirting and touching, Frankie gets to watch you take your punishment.”

Frankie shifted nervously at the mention of his presence and couldn’t help but adjust his own thickly aroused cock in his tight dress pants.

Santi pulls you with him to the nearest chair and roughly spreads you across his lap. He hikes your dress up to the small of your back and pulls your underwear down to rest around your ankles. You know his warm-up routine to your spankings like the back of your hand at this point, just like you know how to make sure you’ll receive one. He rubs his hand across your exposed ass, stopping to trace his fingers up your wet slit.

“Oh, Daddy’s slut is already fucking dripping. I can’t wait to get you home and fuck this pussy till you can’t walk for days. Alright baby, it’s gonna be 20 this time. And I want you to say ‘thank you’ after every single one.”

“Yes sir,” you respond, understanding this routine. You think you know how far Santi will go, but you didn’t expect Frankie to be in the room right now, touching his cock over his pants, searching for some sort of relief.

“God Frankie, you look miserable right now. You can take your cock out of your pants as long as you promise to stop looking so uncomfortable,” Santi granted, allowing some relief for his poor friend. “And you, baby, you’re going to look Frankie in the eye and say your ‘thank you’ to him, for his help in getting you into this mess.”

Damn, Santi truly knows how to push all your buttons, even ones you didn’t know existed. You look up at Frankie with his cock in his hand and a new rush of heat spreads across your abdomen, just as Santi lands his first smack on your ass.

“Thank you,” you say to Frankie and he lets out a sharp gasp, obviously intoxicated by this situation. Another smack lands hotly on your ass.

“Thank you,” you purr to Frankie as he begins to stroke his throbbing cock. Another smack and you begin to lose yourself in the pleasure and pain of the situation, but not far enough to forget your ‘thank you’s.’

“Oh god man, I’m going to cum,” Frankie rasps out, still entrapped in the pleasure of watching you experience pain at the hand of his best friend.

“I think your cum will look really nice on this little slut’s face, don’t you think baby?”

“Yes sir,” you stutter, struggling to keep your head above the delirium that your arousal is threatening to drown you in. Santi reminds you of your role with another sharp smack, “Thank you.”

Frankie closes in on you, desperately near his release. “Fuck this is too hot.” Frankie groans and shoots hot ropes of cum onto your face. The feeling of his warm, sticky seed dipping across your face finally drowns your soul in arousal and need. Santi lets you know the punishment is over by guiding your limp body up to rest against his chest.

“You did so good baby, Daddy’s so proud of you. And you look so pretty with Frankie’s cum all over your face,” Santi murmurs into your neck as he holds you close. He always does this, giving you time to come down from all the emotions of the punishment, letting you know how deeply he cares about you. He runs his hand up and down your back, gently stroking your hair.

“Yeah baby, you look so pretty. Say goodbye to Frankie, we’ll see him later after we get you cleaned up.” You muster the energy to raise your head and give Frankie a parting glance, before nuzzling back into the comfort of your boyfriend’s familiar scent, Cafe Bustelo and cinnamon.

After giving you time to catch your breath Santi whispers into your ear, “Come on baby, lemme help you clean up.” You look into his eyes and see all the rage and frustration of the evening has faded back into his normal state of deep, warm care.

He takes his thumb and uses it to wipe away Frankie’s cum, presenting it to you every so often to lick clean. Once your face is presentable again, he pulls your underwear back up from their resting place around your ankles, careful not to create too much friction as they move over your ass, which has been marbled a nice red/purple by Santi’s handiwork. He fixes your dress before pulling you to your feet.

“Now next time baby, just tell me you want to get Frankie involved, and I’m sure we can work something out.”

You giggle and wrap your arms around Santi, but his statement does make you think about what _next time_ can be....


	2. trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> santi has a game for you two to play while he's out of town...   
> \--originally posted to tumblr under soyelfuegoquearde--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: dom/sub vibes, exhibitionism/voyeur, (more than just) brief daddy kink, orgasm denial, Facetime sex, safe word usage.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be gone for over a month,” you grumble in Santiago’s chest as he tries to unravel your intertwined limbs to continue packing. “How am I supposed to survive without you?”

He succeeds in exiting from the bed, but you reach out and grab a handful of his ass, desperately trying to get his attention back on you instead of his imminent departure. “Mmmm, now I know you’re feeling lots of things right now, but remember your manners,” Santi chastises as he swats your hand away. “I don’t want to have to leave with your bottom smarting, do I?” he teases.

“Maybe it’d help me remember you better,” you poke, hoping to rile him up just a little more. Maybe then he’ll get back in bed with you. “How else am I going to remember how good you treat me, daddy, after fucking myself with my dildo for a month?”

Santi’s eyes darken at this statement, and you begin to worry that you took your prodding a little too far. You roll to the edge of the bed, on your knees, ready to apologize. Santiago drops his packing and walks back to you at the bed. He gently strokes your hair and allows his hand to come to rest lightly holding your chin.

“Oh baby, you just gave me the best idea. Do you want to play a game while I’m gone?” Santi asks.

“That depends, what kind of game?”

“It’s the kind of game that will get you a big reward from Daddy if you can be a good girl all the time I’m gone. Do you think you can do that?”

“Hmmm, I like the sound of this game,” you moan as Santi runs his thumb across your lips. You part them to allow him to slide his thumb inside your mouth and you begin to glide your tongue along it, just how he always likes.

“The game has one rule: you can’t touch yourself at all the whole time I’m gone. This means no toys, no playing with your nipples, no grinding against pillows, and especially no masturbating. And if you can go all month, Daddy will bring you back a special present. Does that sound doable baby?” 

As Santiago lists off the components of this game’s rules, your mouth falls open. He removes his thumb and rubs it along your cheek as you sit silently in thought. Being honest with yourself, it doesn’t sound doable. You’ve been having so much great sex, and so many great orgasms since you’ve gotten together with Santiago Garcia. And before him, you always had your vibrator and other toys to keep you _occupied_ (certainly nowhere near as good as Santi). Had you gone a month without touching yourself since high school? Probably not. And knowing Santi, he wasn’t going to make it easy. But you’ve never been one to shy away from a challenge.

“Count me in,” you agree, and Santi meets you in a deep kiss.

* * *

The first few days aren’t too bad. You keep yourself busy with work, you watch TV, and you even start reading a new book that’s been on your list for a while: Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky.

“How apropos…” you say out loud as you crack the spine of the Russian novel.

When Raskolnikov seems to have fallen asleep after committing his first crime, you begin to think about sleep as well. The clock on the wall of your apartment reads close to 12:30am. “Damn, I didn’t mean to stay up this late,” you mutter to yourself. “This sucker can wait until morning,” referring to Dostoyevsky’s sorry protagonist.

You’re about to plug in your phone and go to sleep as well for the night when your phone buzzes with a Facetime call. Santiago’s name and photo pop up on your lock screen. You slide to answer.

“I wasn’t expecting a call from you, but it’s a pleasant surprise,” you say as Santi’s tired face appears on your phone’s screen.

“I missed you,” Santi says, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice, caused by whatever he’s doing on this classified business trip. “And I wanted to check in and make sure you’re being a good girl.”

That phrase sends a rush of heat to your core, a sensation that you hadn’t experienced in a couple days. Santi can see the shiver that his words bring over your body and he smiles.

“God damn it Santi, I hate how you saying those words gets me instantaneously horny,” you complain. 

“No, you love it. I know that for sure. But have you? Have you been a good girl for Daddy?” His voice drops a couple of steps, falling back into the timbre it always has in your bedroom. 

“Your voice is doing things to me baby! You’re gonna drive me up the wall just with your words,” you gasp, that warmth growing in your core. You hiss out the extra air you were unintentionally holding in your chest. “But yes, I haven’t touched myself. I’m trying my best for you my love.” 

“Good girl, I love you,” Santi coos. “I have to go, but just remember, I’ll know if you disobey me.”

And the call ends. You’ve done your best to avoid this feeling in your body since he left, but of course, he wasn’t going to make it easy. You know that this fire that has sparked in your center isn’t going to resolve on its own for a while.

 _How would he know if I just did it right now?_ you think to yourself, energy in your core making you squirm. _There’s no way he could really know._

Your phone buzzes with a notification. A text from Santiago: ♥️. You decide against it and drift off into a restless sleep caused by your discomfort.

* * *

It’s almost a week before the next time Santi calls. You’re not having a good time. Every time you let your mind wander from your work or goddamn Dostoyevsky that heat begins to pool above your thighs.

You’re imagining how amazing it would feel to have his face between your legs for hours on end, drawing one orgasm after another out of your body like he is the only one who can. Like he will own every last orgasm you will ever have. You think about coming until your body is drenched in sweat, your juices dripping down your thighs, and no thoughts remain in your head.

These imagined scenarios only make your torture worse, ending each day with your arousal burning in the very edges of your soul.

When Santi calls, it’s almost a relief. You answer the Facetime and can immediately see that he’s in his sleep shirt, you can’t see much further down but imagining him in his boxers, ready for bed does nothing to quiet the fire burning in your core. 

“Santiago, I fucking miss you,” you groan as you sink into the pile of pillows on your bed.

“Oh kitten, I can’t get you out of my head. I know you can’t do anything with yourself, so I thought you could watch me.” He tilts his laptop screen down and you can see him rubbing his already-stiffening cock.

The image causes a guttural moan to break from your lips.

Santi continues his tease, “God, I’m just thinking about how good it would feel to bury my face in your perfect pussy. I’d drink up every last drop of what you gave me.” His dick is rock hard at this point, reddening under the assault of his calloused hand. _Wouldn’t it feel better to have my mouth on there?_ you think, but you don’t speak it out loud.

Santiago keens, “I bet all the marks I left on you before I left are faded now, huh? I’ll have to fix that. I’m gonna mark up every inch of your body.” His breath is heavy and ragged, and you know he’s close to his release.

You squirm against nothing but phantom touches and the dream of his lips roaming your body, still sweating and panting. That low burn that’s been smoldering in your core for the past several weeks has ignited and is incinerating every nerve ending in your body in the worst possible way. You can hear Santi climax over the Facetime call, but you can’t bring yourself to look back at the screen. Your body, your arousal, is betraying you. Everything real in your world collapses and your brain solely just aches for release. Waves of stress, pain, and frustration roll over your body, and you can feel real, hot wet tears drip down your face.

You are so overwhelmed with feeling, but you manage to choke out, “Red Light,” your safe word. You hear Santi stop his actions the moment he registers the phrase. 

“Hey, hey, hey. I’m here with you. Tell me what’s going on,” he soothes.

Tears of frustration and loneliness continue to flow down your face as you catch your breath enough to answer your boyfriend. “I’m miserable Santiago. I hate this game. I really really wanted to play it for you. I wanted to be good for you. I wanted to have this connection with you while you’re gone. But my body is on fire and I can’t do this any longer.”

“Baby, it’s okay. You’ve been amazing for me. I want to make sure I’m taking care of you. I don’t want to make you miserable. I wanted it to be fun and if it’s not fun anymore, we can stop.”

“I just want you home. I want you here with me. I want to cum with you Santi. I want that more than anything.” 

Santiago lets out a deep breath. “I would come home this instant, but I still have some business to finish up. I’ll be home in two weeks.” You can hear the gears turning in his head as a new fire lights behind his eyes. “But in the meanwhile, I think I may have a solution. Would you be willing to continue playing this game, but with a different variation that, I promise, will be fun for you?”

“What kind of variation are you thinking about?” you question. 

“I can’t say just yet, because I want his agreement first. But I know you’ll like it.”

“Okay yeah, if you think I’ll like it, sign me up.”

“You’re exhausted, go to sleep my love.” Santi coos. “I’ll text you in the morning.” You sign off of the Facetime call, wondering what the details of Santiago’s plan will be. Whatever it is, you hope it works because you cannot fathom what it will be like to make it until he comes back home with truly no pleasure. 

* * *

It’s not that Santiago had really thought about having a threesome with you and Frankie, but maybe there was a spark of an idea there. And speaking of smoldering, that idea had been gaining traction since Frankie’s participation in your punishment at the party.

> _“Now next time baby, just tell me you want to get Frankie involved, and I’m sure we can work something out.”_

Nothing had come of his statement from that party, but Santiago Garcia realized it was now time.

He calls Frankie on the phone and explains the situation, “You know that our relationship is a little non-traditional, right?”

“Yeah, no shit, I can’t get that image of my cum on her face out of my head since that night,” Frankie mumbles nervously.

Santi chuckles at his friend’s admission. “Well, we’re currently playing a game where she’s not allowed to touch herself. For the whole time I’m gone. But I pushed my teasing too far and I owe her a release. But I still want it to be by my rules.” He continues, “Now you have total control to say ‘no’ to my proposition, but I trust you, more than I trust anyone stateside right now. I want you to go fuck my girlfriend. Give her a couple orgasms, while I watch over Facetime. Are you interested? And if not, we can forget this conversation ever happened.”

“Fucking Jesus Christ, Pope. You and your girlfriend are batshit crazy,” Frankie mutters, “But yeah, I’m down. That shit’s too hot to pass up.”

“Catfish, you are the best friend I could ask for,” Santiago smiles.

* * *

When Santi texts you to let you know the full plan with Frankie coming over, you’re over the moon. Yes, you’ve been thinking about the night the three of you shared at that party ever since it happened.

Frankie is already sweating when he arrives. It could be on account of the early spring thaw that’s happening outside, or it could be because he’s about to have sex with his best friend’s girlfriend, or maybe a little of both. You can’t help but notice the way his dampness makes his hair stick to his forehead and bring out his musky almost-campfire-like smell that constantly exudes from his presence.

“Thanks for coming,” you murmur and lead him by his hand into the bedroom. 

In the bedroom, Santi is already on Facetime. His video call is streaming on your laptop, which is put upon the dresser across from the bed.

The two friends greet each other, and Santi says, “Just remember, any of us can call this off at any time, no questions asked and no hard feelings. And we all have the same safe words: red, yellow, and green.” Your Santi is always the commander, and a caring one at that.

In his commander fashion, Santiago planned that you would have your arms restrained with the ties that live attached to your and Santi’s bed. “To keep you from touching yourself,” Santi had argued with a glimmer in his eye.

You’ve never done anything quite like this before, and you quickly take your clothes off, anxious to begin the new experience. Frankie ties your arms up with the same expert knot skills that your Santi has.

“Did they teach you that in the Rangers?” you ask Frankie, breaking the silence of the room.

“Teach us what?” he replies.

“How to tie pretty girls up?” you jest and Frankie scoffs in return.

“Yes, we did learn some knots in basic, that I guess, prove to have some extracurricular purposes.” This statement brings a smile to both of your faces, and you can hear Santi laugh from the laptop. “Is this okay?” Frankie asks, referring to the tightness of your restraint.

“Yes, green, 100%” This brings another laugh from Santiago because he knows from your voice that you’re energized to get started.

From your arms Frankie trails his fingertips lightly across your body, not really applying pressure anywhere, but his ghost touch draws a moan from your lips. As his hands stroke across your breast, another moan escapes. “Yes, keep making those pretty noises for me baby, I want to hear everything, and I know Santi does too.”

He takes care to rub his thumb directly across the sensitive bud of your nipple, which brings something more carnal than a moan to escape from your lips. “You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?” he teases. “Tell me where you want me to touch you, sweet girl.”

Words struggle to form as you fight against the arousal that distorts your thoughts. “Anywhere. Everywhere. Please. Just don’t stop,” you plead. Your hands are already gripping hard against your restraints, your hips bucking up, hoping to come in contact with Frankie’s jeans as he hovers above you.

Frankie’s large hand comes into contact with your abdomen, flat, pressing you down. “Cálmate, we’ve got all night,” he soothes to no avail. You feel your very soul coming apart with need. The stitches that hold it together, ripped out one by one for each moment you are made to wait for this touch where you need it most.

But Frankie is a sensible man, so he continues his trek down your body, landing at the spot where you need him most, in between your legs. As his comparatively cool breath hits you, a noise breaks from your lips. You’d like to call it a gasp or a moan, but it’s probably closer to a screech. But you don’t care. Shame is so far down your list of priorities at this moment.

He drags his fingertips down the length of your body, goosebumps trailing in his wake. He draws a swift line up your slit, another shriek of need erupting from your mouth. He pauses his light torment to finally focus on your clit. He blows a light stream of air onto it, relishing in the noise you make in response. His thumb presses against your sensitive bundle of nerves, with more pressure than his fingertips have granted on your body just yet. He begins to rub as he slides his middle finger back down your slit and into your soaked heat. He sinks all the way in, until his knuckles brush against your folds. He brings the finger back out and adds another. He slowly begins the fuck you with his fingers, as his thumb rubs your clit.

You are so on edge from Santi’s weeks of teasing that it feels like you approach that edge quickly. You whimper to Frankie, “I’m going to come.”

“So soon baby? I haven’t gotten the chance to taste this perfect pussy,” Frankie says with a disappointed air, but bends his fingers inside you to hit that pleasure spot on your walls. You shriek once more and tumble over the edge. Your weeks of tortured denial gush out against Frankie’s fingers.

He pulls his fingers out and you moan at the loss of pressure. Frankie turns to face the laptop and theatrically licks his fingers, “Mmmmm, Pope, your girl tastes so good. I can’t wait to get my mouth fully on that pussy,” Frankie teases.

“Okay cabrón, dial it back and focus on her,” Santi laughs and you whimper at the distractions from your pleasure.

“Frankie,” you mumble, “I want your cock inside me.”

Frankie can’t help but tremble at your admission, but he resists the urge to immediately impale you on his throbbing member. “Not yet baby, I want you to cum on my mouth first,” Frankie orders.

He returns to in between your thighs and wastes no time in licking his flat tongue across your folds. He allows his tongue to swirl against your clip. He laps up the juices that you gushed out in your first orgasm, and then he dives his tongue up into your center. The sensation of having that inside of you brings you to a new edge of pleasure. Your thighs begin to tremble, causing him to moan into your pussy.

“Oh, do that again, please I’m so close,” you beg, and Frankie complies. He hums against your wet heat while delving his tongue against your most sensitive parts. You quickly fall apart again underneath him, a second orgasm ripping through your body. You lose track of reality in your pleasure, not quite sensing when Frankie’s tongue is removed from your core and he sheds the rest of his clothing.

He meets you back at your center, with his dick sheathed in a condom. “Green?” he probes.

Your body is glistening with a light sheen of sweat and your cum is coating your thighs, you are exhausted but still riding the high of pleasure. “Green,” you respond.

Frankie sinks his cock into you, ripping moans from deep within you. He buries his full length inside, allowing you to adjust to his size. Then he sets a brutal pace, each stroke hitting deeper inside you.

Once more, Frankie has you teetering on the precipice of pleasure. Reality disappears and all that matters is the feeling of Frankie’s cock brushing against your inner walls. That fire within you is building, leaving you gasping for air and murmuring a convolution of Santi and Frankie’s names. Your hands grab desperately for the sheets beneath you, needing something to attach you to this plane of existence. Frankie’s hand meets yours and he intertwines his fingers with yours.

The simple gesture of care and his hips snapping against yours allows you to find that peak again, coming hard on his cock as you grip his hand for dear life. Your powerful orgasm sets him over the edge as well, his cock pulsing as it releases.

Your bodies melt into each other as you find reality again. Frankie rolls off of you to throw the spent condom away in the wastebasket at your nightstand. He carefully unties your wrists, offering a gentle kiss on each one where your restraints have chafed your delicate skin. You curl into yourself, needing a grounding arm around you that was probably not part of Frankie’s deal with your boyfriend.

You can hear Santiago give his love to you, before hurriedly asking Frankie to take care of you, probably because work had to pull him away. Frankie closes the lid to the laptop and goes to the next room to get a washcloth to wipe up the mess between your legs. He gently cleans up your oversensitive center, cooing soft praises of “good girl, just a little more,” when you flinch against the feeling.

When he finishes, he tucks you into your bed, patting your shoulder. “Thanks, baby. That was a lot of fun,” Frankie says.

“Wait Frankie,” you whimper, “Don’t leave. Please.” Frankie pauses on his exit at your request. “Can you please just stay with me, until I fall asleep?”

“Of course, hermosa.” And he crawls into bed behind you, placing his strong arm across your slide just how you need it. He brushes a final, soft kiss against the back of your neck. “Sleep well, sweet girl.”


End file.
